Breaking The Cycle
by Sepia Painter
Summary: Yuki tackles the impossible and Shuichi helps him overcome his worst nightmare. Oneshot. Lemon.


Breaking the Cycle

**Disclaimer**: You know the drill.

**Summary**: One night of love making ends up in the cycle being broken. Yuki discovers he is strong enough to let his lover in, and manages to say three little words that will bond them forever. One-shot. Lemon.

**A/N**: Just something I wrote trying to get over writers block. For all of you who are immersed in Forgotten right now, I'm trying really hard to complete the next chapter! Jut needed to move past this block and get the words flowing.

Please review!

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He was sleeping on his laptop again. His forehead was pressed into the keys creating a mish-mash of letters that repeated continuously across his document. He'll probably have a red mark in the pattern of his checkered keyboard, the imprints of the letters on his skin. He'll bitch about it if he wakes up in time to see it before it disappears.

I picked him up and closed the laptop, saving the document full of pretty words for another day. He's light in my arms as he snores softly and curls into my shirt, whispering my name in his sleepy recognition of my touch or my scent, I'm not sure which.

I try to lay him back down as gently as possible on the bed; he stirs only slightly and throws an arm over my side of the bed, reaching for me. When he discovers I'm not there he wakes up and blinks, once, twice, three times rapidly. His head pops up and his obnoxiously bubble-gum pink hair flounces around his face, sticking to his cheek where his drool has pooled and his cheek has grown hot from sleep.

"What's up, moron?" I say behind him, not wanting to induce a premature Shuichi-panic-attack when he can't see me immediately. He turns over and smiles at me, so wide and happy to see me that I'm caught with my tongue tied in knots. I can't breathe when he smiles like that, joy and love etched in his dimpled cheeks, his eyes existing only to look at me.

"Yuki…" he breathes, so quietly I'm sure I've imagined it. He jumps from the bed in a spectacular leap and tries to land in my arms. I have a decision in the split second between his feet leaving solid surface and his body hurdling towards me. Side-step and let him fall, or catch him.

I decide on the latter. What can I say? I'm feeling generous.

He's nearly a puddle in my arms. His small, soft hands reach for my face and he touches my cheek and smiles again.

There's a connection hiding in his smile, he's building on it, building his love for me and trying to get me to do the same. I look away because I don't want to feel that much love, it's almost painful to have directed at me.

"Afternoon sleepy-head," I say and put his feet on the ground. He's amazingly short compared to me. His arms are still wrapped around my neck, making me stoop to his level. I'm rewarded with a kiss for my patience with his antics. He tastes like pocky and cranberry juice.

"Afternoon Yuki," he says against my lips and kisses them again. I like the tart taste of the cranberries on his tongue and the sweet taste of strawberry pocky on his lips.

"Hungry brat?" I ask nonchalantly. He nods enthusiastically and plops back down on the bed, limbs spread akimbo in a position customary for young boys and men with no care for the world, only lost in their own thoughts.

"Starving!" he whines, patting his stomach with a small hand. I snort and roll my eyes at him.

"Doubtful. The way you eat, you could never be starving."

"Yuki! You're so meeean!"

"Yeah? Lay off the pocky and maybe I won't have to tell the truth when you ask if your butt looks big in a new pair of jeans."

Silently I prayed he wouldn't head me at all. I loved tasting the pocky in his mouth, sweet and creamy on his tongue. His butt was also in beautiful condition, round, taught…

I stopped my thoughts mid-sentence, commanding myself to calm down before I spent all afternoon fucking him.

Not that he would complain.

"…Yuki!"

"What?" I snapped. He giggled at me.

"You had that look on your face."

"Huh?" I said stupidly, trying to straighten out non-existent wrinkles in my perfectly wrinkle-free shirt. I felt my face begin to flush and I forced myself to gain some composure. "What look?"

"The one you get when you're… you know…"

"No," I said in my deepest growl, teasing him now. "No, I don't know. When I'm what?" I half-fell on top of him, holding his hands above his head as I nipped his collarbone, sending him into convulsions of pleasure.

"The one you get when you're… horny." He blushed the deepest scarlet and I kissed his cheek, his lips, his chin, his neck. He groaned.

"You mean like this?" I said, releasing one of his hands and gathering it in the other, then reaching down to put my hand under his shirt, I played with his sensitive skin, touching, teasing, brushing certain places with tender touches, pushing my fingertips deep into others until he was panting and moaning and I could feel him getting hard under my thigh.

"Yu—Yuki!" he giggled as I hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"Hmm?"

He leaned forward to capture my lips, at the same time arching his back and pressing himself against me. I let go of his hands, not knowing what I was doing as I lost all self control and gripped his head in my hands, unwilling to let his perfect mouth escape. He rubbed against my leg fervently and broke away from my kiss for just a moment to moan my name.

"Please…Yuki…" he said in a gravelly whisper. I took my hands and raked my fingers down his torso, being hard, yet gentle at the same time as I took the button on his pants in my teeth and popped it open. He laughed and I looked up at him and winked.

"How did you do that?" He asked breathlessly.

"Practice." I told him, yanking his pants down and flinging them into the wall behind me. He sat up and took my shirt in his hands, easing every button open slowly, kissing the flesh revealed underneath. I was ready to shove him into the bed and take him right then, my cock was throbbing insanely by the time he was done tasting and teasing.

Then suddenly, _my_ back was pressed against the soft bed and he was undoing my belt as he straddled my waist. I growled and tried to get up, but he took my hands and held them with surprising strength. If I had really wanted him off, I could have flung him across the room, and he knew it, but I was enjoying myself for now.

Something was creeping up inside me, though, and I fought to ignore it. I didn't like being on my back, and I didn't like not being in control. I tried to suppress that thought and just enjoy the moment. I succeeded for the most part, until Shuichi reached my pants and managed to slide them off slowly while planting little kisses down my leg.

I clenched my fists and then threw him roughly into the mattress.

He was shocked for a moment, unsure of what had happened. "You did better that time," he said after a minute of regaining his breath, brushing his hands through my hair. I looked away from his sweet purple eyes. "Yuki," he said, forcing me back to him. "I don't expect you to ever get over it, but its progress."

My hatred for not being in control and for lying on my back was taking over my sex life. Some days there was nothing I would like more than to lay back and have Shuichi do everything under the sun to me. There were plenty of days he wanted nothing more than to do the same. I would get there, even if it killed me.

I fell sideways and lay on my back, fighting the urge to stand up and run away. Shuichi put his hand in mine and I squeezed it gently. I could feel his answering smile glowing beside me as he slowly, carefully, crawled on top of me and ran his hands over the smooth planes of my chest, down my stomach, across the waistband of my underwear, and his nimble fingers reached under and lifted them down and off my legs. He allowed me to do the same to him and we sat naked, him on top.

Everything in me screamed to get him off, to take back my control.

_Don't let it happen again_…

I looked at Shuichi critically. It _wasn't_ happening again, New York was six thousand and some-odd miles away, Kitazawa Yuki was dead, and Shuichi would never intentionally hurt me in the same way that Kitazawa did.

_Shuichi is not going to hurt me_, I repeated in my head over and over again.

He looked at me questioningly and I nodded.

"Just say the word, Yuki, and I'll be off you in an instant." He told me quietly, lowering his head to kiss my aching member. The room was cold, making the need even worse as I waited for him to wrap his lips around me.

Almost as though reading my mind, his mouth enveloped me in warmth and wetness and a gentle tugging sensation ran through me as he sucked. His mouth was magical and I fought the need to thrust harder into his mouth, I didn't want to choke him, I didn't want to hurt him.

He lowered his mouth as far as he could, all but an inch of me covered by his tongue and teeth and lips. His gag reflex was too great to go any farther. He sucked gently at first, and then harder and harder as my moans grew more pronounced, bobbing his head, using his teeth to nip the tender flesh at the most perfect moments.

I was ready to explode, and he knew it. He pulled back with a seductive and devilish grin as I tried to regain my senses and see what he was doing. The nightstand drawer opened with a protesting squeak and he pulled out the bottle of lube.

As he prepared to coat himself, I grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

His eyes were disappointed but understanding as I put the lube away and kissed his neck.

"I'm sorry Yuki; it must be so hard for you."

The brat didn't get it. I moved my head lower, kissing down his sternum, a straight line to his belly button and then lower. He gasped and his fingers automatically twined in my hair as I sucked at his cock, licking and teasing as he had just done to me. When he was throbbing, certainly in as much ecstasy as I was, I pulled away and smirked at him.

"I'm not as much of a baby as you are. I don't need the lube, just some good old-fashioned saliva."

He laughed breathlessly and crawled over me, kissing me hard on the lips. I lay back and remembered that this was going to feel good as my hands itched to push him away.

He was at my entrance, whispering something under his breath. I peeked at him.

"What's that?"

"I'm sorry…" he said. "If I hurt you, please say something."

I growled at him. "You couldn't hurt me if you tried. Now do something before I die!"

He giggled and slowly pushed himself into me as I groaned and twisted in pleasure. He threw his head back and groaned as well, no doubt reveling in the feel of his first time inside someone else. He was slow and tentative at first, and I had to tell him to go faster, push harder, do _anything_, as long as it was more.

Soon we were a sprawling tangle of limbs on the bed as he came inside me and cried out. The feeling was better than anything else I'd felt and I came less than a minute later, my head spinning. He collapsed onto the bed, panting.

Possibly the best sex I'd ever had. I said as much.

He blushed deeply (a major feat, given that he was already flushed from sex). I pulled his small body against mine and kissed his shoulders, his back, his neck, anything I could find. Almost immediately I had to roll on my side to keep the feeling of being trapped from overtaking me and ruining this perfect moment.

We lay together for at least ten minutes before he stirred and turned to face me, kissing me softly, insistently, and then breaking away to smile and run his fingers through my hair.

This annoying ball of energy, after five years of pleading and therapy and failed attempts that ended in bruises, after five years of putting up with my shit as I fucked him harder than he wanted, after five years of nothing but me fucking him, this pink-haired singer had accomplished something no one else had.

We had made love, and _he_ had been in control.

Contentment overcame me.

"Don't expect to do that again for a very long time." I told him gruffly, holding him by the waist.

"Why?" He asked, eyes widening with instant panic.

"I'll be sore for at least a few days after this." I complained, massaging my lower back. He instantly became fluttery and despaired as he apologized for hurting me. I chuckled and shut him up with a kiss.

"It's a good thing baka. You didn't hurt me; I just haven't done that in a _very_ long time."

He giggled with bright, shining eyes as he looked into mine. The connection was there again, trying to find me and tell me he loved me.

I sighed. There was no use hiding from that connection anymore.

I reached out to touch his face, softly, my fingers barely caressing the insanely smooth skin of his cheek. "I love you." I said softly. Funny. I didn't burst into flames the instant the words passed my lips.

His eyes widened and for ten heartbeats there was absolute stillness. Then his eyes began to mist over with tears and he broke into heartfelt sobs as he clung to me. I was a little bewildered and confused by his reaction, and then he looked up at me with streaming eyes and a toothy grin.

"Say it again?" He asked me in a watery voice.

"I love you." The words were odd on my tongue, as though I didn't know how to form them. I tried it again. "I love you."

"Yuki…" his voice broke on my name and he clutched himself tightly to me.

We spent the rest of the night in the shower, on the bed, in the living room. Cleaning away the sweat and fluids, lying together for a nap, watching a late-night movie, and every few minutes I'd lean down and whisper the "I love you" in his ear and smile as he shivered and looked up at me with adoring eyes.

Five years was long enough to break the cycle.

**End**


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